


Flowers Can't Kill Me (Loving You Can)

by Leaderisms



Series: Poisonously So [1]
Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaderisms/pseuds/Leaderisms
Summary: “The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient coughs up flowers or flower petals."





	1. Seeds

Nobody knew why, but the morning that flower petals drifted into Tord's cereal bowl was never questioned.

It had been a quiet morning— Quieter than a usual morning, at least. Tom's hunched over figure near the counter was busy making toast and Edd has already cracked open his breakfast cola when Tord shuffled into the kitchen, sleep in his eyes. He'd grumbled a "good morning" then shambled around the kitchen like a dead man, making a bowl of cereal before sitting at the table. Nothing seemed out of place, it was a perfectly normal start of the day.

Then came the petals.

In vibrant shades of violet, blues and greens they came pouring out of Tord's lips, strangling whatever words he had wanted to say. Edd's reaction had been one of confusion and worry, Tom's was one of utter speechlessness, closing his mouth and reopening it only to close it again. The toast had popped up, burned to a crisp.

After that, nobody knew what to make of him, or the petals that followed. It was like the disease had created a fauna-induced barrier between all of them.

Matt however, took it upon himself to try and help Tord whenever it got too bad. Like the time they had settled down for a movie and half way through, Tord had doubled over vomiting up flora. Matt had rubbed his back and soothed him until each flower had gotten out, and a hiccup only brought up a small petal. The movie had been forgotten, and they'd all gone to bed with troubled minds.

It was then, that Tord had decided to leave—The incident was proof enough that he had to.

Edd fought against it when he heard the news, Matt had begged him not to leave, and Tom only grew more distant and cold. Tord came up with excuses that he wanted to make it big in the city, that he couldn't stay out here any longer. They all knew the truth, but it was easier on all of them to leave it unspoken.

But there were several reasons why he had to leave—One of them being the fact that he never expected to fall in love with somebody who he _thought_ he hated.

He and Tom weren't close, never had been, and they only got more distant and hostile after Edd had traveled to go to a relatives house for some sort of gathering for a weekend a few years back. They'd quickly learned that without Edd, they couldn't stand each other. It had been a weekend full of shouting, fighting and an eventual fistfight in the backyard as Matt stood on the sidelines anxiously, medkit in hand.

But sometimes he'd catch himself lingering on Tom's face too long, or finding something endearing about him when there shouldn't have been anything. But Really, there shouldn't have been anything endearing about the way he still slept with a bear, or the way he'd screw up his eyebrows in deep thought when tuning his bass. He had a habit of rubbing the back of his neck when frusterated and had a few freckles dotted on his cheeks that shone in the right light. His pitch black eyes sparkled in an infuriatingly mystical way, offering Tord a glimpse into Tom's inner thoughts and emotions—not that he was looking, however.

But it wasn't even the physical attributes that he found himself finding comforting. It was their constant teasing, Tom's reactions being his favorite out of all the housemates. Edd never tooks his bullshit and Matt was far too unforgiving to prank. Tom was just the right mix of anger and forgiveness to mess with. It became routine teasing before he knew it, they had blossomed into a rivalry that Tord found insufferable with just enough amounts of actual affection to keep him from being genuinely frusterated with the other.

After that it was tug and pull with his emotions, fighting with feelings of affection and hatred, unsure which would win. He didn't know which one he wanted to win, and the thought drove him up the wall and made him irritable.

Tord got his answer a week later when he found a forget-me-not sitting on the top of his water after taking a drink.

That was the real reason he left. Even though leaving would be horribly painful, even though leaving could possibly be leading him to his death, he couldn't stand _not_ to. Living in the same house as the cause of his disease for such a long time would destroy his mind—Especially when he was certain that Tom wouldn't reciprocate his feelings.

Or even catch on.

So with a heavy heart he had slammed everything of imediate personal worth into suitcases and left as soon as he could to Norway.

 

After that he wandered around a bit, receiving updates every now and then about home life. He used to reply to them immediately, snickering at what new shenanigans that they were getting into. Life back in Oslo was dull, uneventful even without the three of them to hold him back or tolerate him. People had avoided him before but now they avoided him because of the trails of petals that followed. He'd catch the disdain in their eyes, and stare back shrewdly. Sometimes a text would distract him from the idleness living without them had brought—One from Edd if he was lucky. These few and sparse texts gave him joy and filled the void that leaving had caused.

But after a while, he stopped looking forward to them—to barely looking at them and then to ignoring them completely.

He wasn't sure why it had gotten harder to respond to them, or exactly when the texts had stopped bringing him joy and only furthered to open up a chasm in his heart. It had been 4 years since he left, and 3 or some odd years since he'd last gotten in contact with Edd and the others.

He didn't like ignoring them like this; it was nearly impossible not to pick up his phone and respond to the occasional text. They'd become more sparse in the last year, and the texts had sorrow laced in the undertones of words that were hard to ignore. Edd's texts had become less bubbly and more of occasional probes of "Where are you?" and "Are you okay?" which were two questions he didn't know the answers to himself.

After that he'd taken some serious thinking into account.

He'd rolled over one morning doubling over and immediately throwing up orchids and perennials, morning glory vines snaking their way out of his system onto his comforter. They were getting worse to the point some petals came up bloody or covered in mucus. Hell, one time he'd coughed up a rose and that had been a hell of a week to deal with. 

It was comforting to see that despite the years of silence that his feelings still remained just as strong, but administered a sharp pain to his heart at the same time.

Staring at the mess on his bed and the ache in his lungs anf throat, he finally made a solid desicion.

He decided to finally do something about the fact that he'd been ignoring a good friend who'd been nothing but worried for him all these years. If he could at least ease their worries and maybe confess his feelings to Tom, then Tord was sure he would be able to die happily knowing he at least was able to do that much.

Grabbing his hoodie and wiping excess petals from his lap, he swiped his phone open and sent a single message to Edd;

"I'm coming for a visit."


	2. Sprouts

Hanahaki typically lasted 5 years, or shorter if you were unlucky.

The only way to get rid of it was if the person of your infatuation returned your feelings, or if you got rid of the flower that took root in your lungs. The type of flower that grew deviated person from person but Tord knew the flower of his. _Hydrangea's_ , the doctors had called it, _very rare and not many were known to grow like this. Wouldn't you like it removed?_

He'd rolled his eyes and declined. More than once a doctor or some stranger had asked that question.

Many went for the surgery; Who wanted to die for somebody who wouldn't necessarily love you back? Not only did you live, but afterwards, you had no feelings for the person anymore. Many saw the disease as an inconvenience, some saw it as horribly romantic, others saw it as a myth. A disease that made you cough up flowers for somebody you love? It was like something out of a romance novel or a tempest God's form of a joke.

Tord wasn't sure where he sat with the disease anymore.

When he'd left Edd and the others behind, he'd moved in with some people he found in an ad. They were the only people who didn't mind his flowers; Just as long as he cleaned them up. He figured the smell of faint perfume on Paul's breath, and the way that Pat's eyes lingered on the smaller man occasionally when Paul coughed after a partiularily nasty cigarette made him think that  they must have experienced the disease personally. It made him grateful for the two, but bitter all the same—He didn't have their storybook ending or really needed their pity. Nonetheless he had their solidarity and compaionship and after a year of Tord skirting around them, they soon became thick as thieves.

But in the beginning it had been terribly hard. After a solid month of cleaning up scattered petals and stems day after day, he'd started thinking of removing it.

The worst thing is he would have done it if there wasn't such a stigma around removing it. Some people liked to look down on people who removed the flower; _"You're a monster"_ , was a common insult. _Why would you get rid of your feelings so easily? You should be ashamed_.

Besides that, he didn't exactly want to become one of those people who had their entire life scorned for removing something that could potentially kill him. As much as he hated the sensation of petals stuck in his teeth and the stench that seemed to cling to every article of clothing he owned, he couldn't do it. It wasn't sentimental or anything, he just didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he removed it and moved back in with Tom. There wouldn't be any feelings like that towards Tom anymore of course but that didn't seem fair, especially when Tord would be the only one who knew about it.

Not only that but all the attributes that had made him like and tolerate him in the first place would be gone.

 

So the paper sat there on the counter untouched, and then finally put away.

Taking a hand and running it haphazardly through his hair, Tord stared down at the suitcase packed on his bed. He wasn't sure how any of them would react seeing him after so many years, let alone Tom. He'd been grateful for Matt and Edd continually reaching out even after he'd stopped replying, but staying away all these years could damage a relationship. Especially one that had been on the rocks even before he'd moved out.

Hell, they probably even thought he had the flowers removed and was courting some other fool in the world, without the fear of spitting up petals or some shit like that. As if he was that kind of person.

Steeling himself, he grabbed the handle of his overloaded luggage—heart feeling just as heavy.


	3. Growing

The flight from Oslo to England had passed by faster than Tord had anticipated.

He'd boarded the flight, thinking he'd have more than enough to think about everything through, but it was clearly not to be. He was glad he'd gotten a window seat so he could stare down at the ground and think about how nice it would be to jump out and end his misery.

Normally he didn't think about things like that, but dire circumstances called for a dose of self-deprecating thoughts.

When he'd gotten off the plane, he'd made a beeline to the bathroom and immediately heaved 2 hours and roughly 8 minutes worth of flora trapped in his lungs—the worst £72 he'd spent in a while. Enduring a flight with constant itchiness and not being able to do anything about it was something he didn't feel keen on doing again for a long time.

He didn't feel ready at all and the feeling only grew worse as he headed over to the luggage terminal, foot tapping impatiently while scanning the line for his bag. He hadn't told Edd when he was arriving, so he could save himself the inner turmoil from running into them immediately. He didn't want to think of the sparkly sign that Matt would make just for him. He'd need to check into his hotel and gather his wits about him first.

 

Like they were in any shape to be gathered.

Spotting his bag amidst others, he went forward and grabbed the offending red object, sliding the handle up so it could travel along on its wheels. Any kind of luggage that had wheels was heavensent in his eyes. Just not when it contained a weeks worth of clothes for an impulsive visit to see friends you'd avoided for a few years.

It took him a while to find the exit, the airport being larger than anticipated. He'd greeted the fresh air, taking a deep inhale that made his chest rattle. The sky overhead was slightly overcast, a perfect mirror of how he felt at the time. Tord ran a hand through his hair, realizing he'd forgotten to do anything to it in his rush to catch the plane. Great. The humidity was only going to make it worse. 

He hailed a cab.

He had intended to be dropped off at the hotel he'd booked before buying the airplane ticket but after seeing old familiar buildings and haunts he used to see so frequently in the past, he'd stopped the cabbie. _I could walk from here_ , he'd said after some protests from the driver, _there are some things I  wanted to see for myself up close._

There was a crinkled map in his hoodie pocket from the airport, but he ignored it for the sake of wandering around his old stomping grounds. It seemed different, but after a long time of being away everything usually looked different. Like you were seeing it in new eyes. There was usually a new strip mall or something too.

Thankfully the cabbie had dropped him off closer to his hotel than he'd thought because at some point sleep deprivation had kicked in and he needed a nap.

Tord had checked into a hotel a good 30 minute walk away from the house where his old friends stayed at— _are_ staying at. He'd thought they would have moved by now, but apparently the old house had too many memories. Knowing Edd, that was probably the reason they hadn't moved. Either that or house hunting was too much work and they were far too lazy and comfortable where they were.

The beds in the hotel weren't exactly the comfiest, but it was the most convenient. Not only that but it had the cheapest snacks, and a complimentary breakfast. He never understood why the breakfasts were always at the earliest time available. Who the hell wakes up at 6 am for a bagel and cheap orange juice? Maybe it's the fact that while patrons are dining on croissants, the hotel staff can do shift exchange, relieving the tired night staff. He figures it's the latter.

But, the hotel also accepts people with Hanahaki. Tord chose not to dwell on that part.

After closing the door to his room, he immediately flopped onto the bed, mattress creaking underneath his weight. A groan escapes his lips as the movement causes discomfort in his chest and he stifles the urge to lurch into a coughing fit. Not today asshole, he'd like to keep this place petal free for as long as possible, thank you very much. 

He sheds his jacket and hat, leaving them on the floor near his shoes and opts to check his phone. The screen dimly reads "7 new notifications", all of them from Edd as if he hadn't heard from him in years.

Which was true.

Its this thought that sends his heart down into the pit of his stomach—Of course he hasn't heard from Tord in years. He coughs once more in discomfort and opens up the texts, scrolling down slowly.

" _Where are you staying when you get here?  How are you even getting here_."

" _I would say come stay at the house but we kind of tried to turn your old room into a pool_. _you can still stay here though, I promise lol_."

 _"How do you feel about the couch?_ "

" _Nevermind, the couch is off the table_."

" _Oh hey your flight is soon right? I mean, you never responded but I'm not an idiot. Do you want us to meet you at the airport?_ "

" _Tom says he's not holding a sign for you, and Matt says his arms get tired too fast."_

" _Tord it's been like, 2 days since you sent that ominous text and either you did that to mess with us or you're actually somewhere in London at this point. If you don't come say hi I'm personally tracking your phone._ "

Tord's eyes lingered on the word "Tom", and felt the familiar itching sensation in his throat. Even just reading his name was enough to make the flowers worse and he hadn't even seen him yet.

He hits his chest and wheezes loudly, dislodging a forget-me-not and some leaves, letting them flutter uselessly to the pillow. So much for leaving the room petal free. He wonders if he could get away with checking out of the hotel without cleaning up, just to be an asshole. Probably, but he knows how hard it is to remove the stench of flowers from a room if it isnt cleaned properly.

Turning onto his side, he wonders how long he can sleep before Edd tracks his phone.


	4. Budding

It takes every ounce of Tord's existence not to turn back.

The house stares back at him, white and red paint faded but all the same. It sends a small chill through his spine how much he hadn't realized time had passed until now. In his head he'd just assumed that everything would be the same.

If this is any testament; he needed a better grip on the phrase "life goes on".

After what seemed like several hours after waking up, Tord had contemplated what to send to Edd before he decided on a simple update text. Nothing too revealing, just something that would prevent Edd from "personally tracking his phone down." Tord didn't exactly believe him, but Edd could be terrifying when he wanted to be.

The contents of the text had explained that he was on his way to the house, that his flight had gone smoothly and that he was excited to see them. Which he hoped hadn't been a lie.

He was nervous about seeing the gang again. Especially Tom.

Actually—he had no idea how he felt about Tom. His Hanahaki knew what he felt, but at this moment in time? He had absolutely no clue what he was stumbling blindly into. It kind of terrified him. Not that he was easily terrified, mind you.

Tord had reasoned with himself the entire walk to the house. You can do this, he'd told himself, you're stronger now. Hell it probably wasn't true but, fake it 'til you make it right?

Unfortunately, everything seemed like a sick joke at this moment in time. It was like a hurricane had paid a surprise visit to his innermost thoughts, and he was stuck on the roof of a building that wasn't meant to withstand a fuckton of water. Needless to say, it had the same effect as smashing down his self confidence.

Panic starts to well up in his chest, almost rivaling the itch of the petals.

_Why did I bother to come back? What was the purpose of this visit? I shouldn't have done this it's better if I just-_

"Tord!"

His head snaps up fast enough to give him whiplash as somebody call his name. It was a familiar British lilt, full of what sounded like excitement. He exhales slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets before turning his attention to whoever called his name. Edd.

He had peeked out of the window to his right, startling Tord slightly and causing the curtains to billow out of the windowsill. Edd seemed a bit more tired then the last time he'd seen him but it wasn't exactly a secret that Edd had the worst sleeping habits out of all of them, preferring to draw than to sleep. Tord wasn't exactly surprised to see that those habits hadn't changed.

 He disappeared from the window, only to reappear literal moments later, unlatching the door and staring up at him.

Wait. Up?

Tord stared slightly down at the green clad cartoonist, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "When did you get so....small?" Tord snorted, a grin fully blooming on his face. Edd seemed wounded.

"Small?? When did you get so big?" Edd peered up at Tord, brows furrowing into a scowl. "Thanks for literally no warning by the way, Matt's spent the past 2 days creating a giant list of questions. Now come here."

Tord let a small noise of surprise as he was suddenly pulled into hug, making him wheeze slightly and causing a small leaf to escape his mouth. Great. the last thing he needed was hurling a bouquet's worth of flowers onto his friend. "Uh Edd? You might want to lay off any sort of contact with my chest."

He was suddenly let go and panicked brown eyes met clear grey ones. Oh boy, here it comes.

"You have a chest infection? Jeez, give me some warning before I do something like that." Huffing slightly, Edd turned and entered the house. "Come in, I have some medication if you need any."

Chest infect- Oh.

Of course Edd would think he'd gotten rid of the flower after this long, who wouldn't? Nobody kept their Hanahaki after this long, and nobody had died of the disease in at least 8 years. It was practically suicide to have the disease this long when you could safely remove it. And the feelings alongside it.

He brushed off those thoughts as he followed Edd inside, only to stop and be very puzzled in the living room which was strangely devoid of any couches. "What happened to the chairs?"

Edd snorted and waved it off. "Tom sold them to a pirate. I ordered some new ones though. They should be here sometime tomorrow."

Huh. He'd gone off of the assumption that they were all still roommates, and surprisingly they still were. He laughed at the absurdity of the situation and elbowed Edd. "Classic stupid Tom, am I right?"

The itch in his throat caught on Tom's name.

Before he could ask where the others were, they were interrupted as a shock of ginger hair peeked out from the edge of the wall that connected the kitchen to the living room, a goofy grin on a face plastered with freckles. Well that had just answered half of his question. "Hey Edd! I thought I heard somebody come in!" The rest of the body connecting to the head comes around to meet them and Tord is slightly taken aback at how tall Matt has gotten. If he is tall next to Edd, then Matt is a giant.

He's half worried that Tom somehow managed to become a telephone pole in his absence.

 "You had better warn us next time okay? I have so many questions!!" They may have gotten older, but Matt's excitement and energy have not diminished in the slightest. He and Edd take him through the house and into the kitchen where they stand, talking idly. Tord had stopped paying attention at some point, wondering how long it would be until Tom came into the kitchen

Matt startles him back to reality as he turns back and shouts into the recesses of the house: "Tom! Tord's here!"

As it sunk in that Matt had not only announced his arrival (and the finality of the situation), he had practically summoned Tom to their location, Tord tried not to panic. _He wasn't ready, he wasn't ready, he wasn't ready-_

"Tord? You don't look so good. Is the chest infection really that bad? I could go grab the medicine now if you'd like."

If only it was a chest infection, then this predicament could have been solved ages ago. He grinned weakly and shoved his hands back into his pockets, hands tightened into fists that he hoped weren't shaking. "Nah, it's actually getting better."

Then Tom rounded the corner.

The last thing Tord remembered was the crack of glass as it hit his face.


	5. Blooming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some shiny new tags!

Tord figures he's been hit with the bottle of Smirnoff in Tom's hand.

He also figures that in some way, he probably deserved that.

He also would have appreciated a bit of warning, as everything went to shit before anybody could say "Jehovah's Witness."

He'd also been hit with what was most likely a bottle of Tom's Smirnoff, and his hair probably had alcohol in it now. Ew.

Alright, time to wake up.

 

"Oh... you're awake!"

He could recognize that tone from a mile away, especially with the pair of amber tinted eyes peering owlishly down at him. Had he been watching him sleep?

Probably. He wouldn't put it past Matt to do something like that in order make sure everything was okay.

But Matt being the first one to wake him up felt a bit better in the way that Matt wouldn't fuss over him like Edd would, or scoff in his face like Tom would do. Actually no, thinking about the two right now and the arguments that were probably being had at the moment was a bad idea.

Bringing a hand to inspect the bump that had made an appearance on his forehead, he sits up groggily, realizing he's in bed. He supposes he should figure out which bedroom he was is. Matt sits cross legged beside him, worriedly pressing into his side with a troubled expression on his normally cushy face. 

Around the room there are novelty toys on shelves, a huge mirror in the corner and several framed pictures of a certain ginger in various poses. Yep, this was Matt's room.

"How long was I out?" Tord swings his legs over the side of the bed, testing their strength. They seemed alright, he was sure he wouldn't suddenly topple over if he walked. That would have been the icing on the metaphorical cake. Matt fidgets slightly beside him, visibly nervous. Matt nervous isn't a good thing, and Tord doesn't want the poor Brit to have a breakdown.

"Hey buddy, hey." Tord turns to him and put his hands on the ginger's shoulders, tone soft and soothing. "Talk to me, don't bottle this up."

Seeming to fall into himself, Matt takes his hands from behind his back, the object curled in his hand making Tord's breath catch and his arms to withdraw slightly away from Matt. No, they weren't supposed to find out this quick, he was supposed to gently explain his situation after they got used to him being around. Matt's shoulders shake slightly as he meets Tord's eyes, tears forming only to roll down his face and splash onto the bright blue cupid's bow in his hands.

"This isn't what we think it is, is it?"

 

After that it had been a while to console the taller of the two. Tord wasn't sure how to explain it gently when Matt had found out so fast and so... horribly. All he'd done was gently pull Matt to himself and let him cry it out. That's what people did in these instances to calm people down right? Right. With the promise of ice cream and tissues, he extracts himself and wanders the hallway, attempting to locate Edd.

It doesn't take long to find him, or Tom for that matter. All he had to do was following the shouting and bickering that was in the kitchen, and there they were. Tom was pacing around, agitation clearly written on his face as he wrung his hands. His tone was clipped and short, and it didn't carry out to the hallway very well. Edd was sitting at the table, zen doodling and bickering back just as heated and agitated. Yikes, Edd usually only ever zen doodled whenever he was stressed. He couldn't hear the conversation clearly but at this point, it got more heated as Edd lashed out, shooting down whatever Tom had said that seemed to cross a line.

Alright. Time to step in.

"Everything alright in here?" Tord peeked around the corner and entered the kitchen, effectively getting the attention from them both and effectively halting the conversation. Edd's pencil clattered to the table as he pushed his chair back. "Tom we talked about-"

And then Tord was on the ground, a checkered sneaker pressed against his chest and stars dancing around his vision as his head slammed against the ground. It takes him a moment to realize that he'd been roughly shoved in anger, but it doesn't seem to dissipate his shock. For somebody with no discernible pupils, Tord has never seen that much emotion in the dark spots where they should have been. His breath begins to come out short and ragged—each wheeze a small forget-me-not was dislodged, only making Tom's foot press harder despite his near inability to get sufficient air.

"You don't talk to us for 3 _years_ commie." Tom's voice cuts through the haze that has started to cloud Tord's vision.

Press.

"You spring the news you're coming for a visit after practically letting us think you were _dead_." The tone is bitter, biting him.

_Press._

"And you come here thinking you could hide and LIE about your stupid GODDAMN HANAHAKI, thinking that we won't notice? Or care?" Tom's voice has gone from loud to dangerously soft now, and he lessens the pressure he's exerting on his foot. Tord inhales a breath, and wheezes painfully.

He could feel the telltale pricks of tears against the back of his eyes, hot and burning. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. He was wishing he had jumped from the plane, it was better than being pressed to the floor. Anything was better than the guilt that threatened to engulf his existence.

"Why haven't you gotten rid of it yet?"

Tom's voice had gone uncharacteristically quiet and broken, and Tord doesn't meet his gaze. He settles to looking at a piece of food underneath the cupboard, vaguely cheese looking and fresh. He coughs, and spits out a chrysanthemum, as if his disease had tried to explain for him. He dares to look up and meet Tom's gaze, unsure of the reaction it would get.

It's a reaction he's never seen before—one he'd never thought to see.

Tom's face is twisted in hurt and pain. It passes through anger, to grief, to resentment and finally hurt again. He lifts his foot roughly and stumbles back to the table, falling roughly into a chair with his face in his hands. The only sound is Tord's ragged breathing and occasional rustle of petals falling through his cracked lips.

Throughout all of this Edd has only stood in shock, unable to shake himself out of it. After this however, he goes around the table to investigate what flower Tord had blessed the floor with.

"Chrysanthemums?"

Everybody who was well versed with the stages of Hanahaki knew what the chrysanthemum meant—It meant no hope for returned emotions, and it meant that they flower was too large to remove. It also meant that the blooming of the flower was near.

It meant death.

It also explained why Tord had been sudden with his visit. No explination was further needed at this point.

Edd gently knelt down and brought Tord to his chest, sobs starting to wrack his small frame. Tord clung to Edd as if he was the only thing keeping him together and attempted to calm his breathing as the world continued to crash around them. In hindsight Edd probably was the only thing keeping Tord from breaking apart completely. The two sat in the middle of the kitchen in mourning, the sounds of sorrow attracting Matt back to the kitchen, only for him to join the two upon seeing the death blossom that sat nestled beside them. Tom stands up roughly at this, and turns to them all in a fit of anger.

"Who were they."

Tom's hoarse voice breaks the tandem of the situation, causing Edd to hiccup and look back over at the brunet. Hurt and confusion clouds his face as he processed the words. "Tom what-"

"I need to know so I can _kick their ass_ in this life and in the afterlife." His fists are clenched and they can all see undeniable _tears_ forming at the corners of his eyes.

Turning his attention towards the three—who shrink back in alarm—as Tom trains his eyes onto Tord, who seems to shrink in on himself, unable to break his gaze. It takes Tord a moment to realize the question being asked, and he hesitates. Edd and Matt are stock still at his side until he reaches out and simply points, the action causing Edd's voice to let out a broken cry of remorse and Matt to let in a sucked air of surprise.

Tom wasn't expecting the ass he had to kick was his own.


	6. Wilting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flaaashbaaaack

Tom never expected to feel something akin to jealously in the days after he had learned about Tord's Hanahaki.

With the disease came a rift that opened up between all four of them, each one unsure how to feel about this information. He knew Edd was worried about what would happen if he didn't get rid of the flower, and he knew Matt was worried about how Tord felt and how he could help.

Tom on the other hand wasn't sure about how he felt about anything of this.

It was a bit selfish to say that after what he dubbed the "Cereal Bowl incident", he almost avoided the red clad Norsk completely. It just. Didn't feel right? Each time he saw Tord spit up a petal or go into a coughing fit, something tightened in his chest making it unbearable to be in his presence.

Hell if Tom knew the exact reason why he felt like that.

Some days he wanted to corner Tord, and ask who the person was. Or demand that Tord go to the hospital at that moment and get the wretched flowers out of his system.

Other days he wished Tord would leave.

When those thoughts hit him, he'd shake it off feeling disturbed. Despite the initial rivalry they had, they were getting friendlier to the point Tom could hesitantly call the relationship they had a friendship.

He began drowning himself in alcohol more often, usually when he dwelled too deeply on his feelings of jealousy about the person who Tord had fallen in love with.

Which was ridiculous.

What beef did he with the person who gave the stupid bastard Hanahaki?

It just confused him further and made something squirm deep inside of him. He didn't even want to think about the effect it was having on his feelings. No matter how hard he tried to ignore what was happening, it was like there was something trying to make itself known. Like there was a hopeful undertone underneath the relationship, asking to be addressed.

Not that he was admitting there was something deeper than friendship there. He didn't even want to think about how horrible and cliche it would be if he somehow fell in love with his rival turned friend who had unrequited _love_ for somebody else.

It sounded like some bad fanfic if you asked him.

But when the morning came after the night of a bad movie made even worse by Tord and he stumbled into red colored suitcases stacked in the entrance, it seemed as if something inside of him withered, leaving shock and confusion in it's wake. It didn't take an explanation from the others for him to realize what was going on.

Tord was leaving to go back to Norway.

Edd had taken the Norsk to the side, and had a talk with him at the kitchen table that lasted a bit over an hour, but his mind had still not wavered. He seemed serious about leaving for some god forsaken reason. The tickets were non refundable and Tord had already found some roommates through some online ad that was completely in Norwegian. Tom had attempted to figure it out before tossing the stolen phone back into the suitcase he'd plucked it from.

 _Good riddance_ , Tom had thought. _I don't need to worry about Tord moping around the house anymore, and I can finally forget about him and the bastard he's in love with._

He'd quietly reveled in the absence that Tord had left in their life, and with that absence he'd begun to quietly diminish the turmoil that was inside of him. A part of him knew that he was only bottling it up, and not dealing with his grief like the others had done.

Edd had moped around for a while, sullen and listless while Matt had refused to leave his room for a solid 3 days before the lack of shower and food drove him out. Tom on the other hand told himself that Tord being gone was a turn for the better. And for a while, he convinced himself it was true. The two Brits eventually perked up, slowly going back into their old lifestyle but occasionally they would find something that Tord left behind and they would be pulled back into sorrow.

Tom let them grieve. It wasn't like Tord leaving had been a good thing and they'd lived together for so long that it had felt like a part of their family had been ripped away.

Edd would sometimes text their him after an outing or adventure just to update him. Matt would sometimes snap a photo of them all and send it to him, just to give him a taste of home. They weren't sure if it was a good or bad thing, but judging from the texts that followed, he appreciated it.

Tord had also taken to returning the favor, sending texts of his own and sending pictures of him and his new roommates. Their names were Paul and Patryk and they seemed like good people and good friends to Tord. Their friendship was apparent in each photo, arms slung around each other and smiles plastered on each of their faces. Matt had stared at the both of them for a while before declaring if he ever met the two, he would give them both makeovers.

Afterwards Tom denied the feelings of jealousy that threatened to rise back up into his throat like bile whenever he saw Tord with them.

But as time began to pass, the replies came late, and the pictures even less frequent, to the point that texts from the Norsk were met with relief that he was still out there.

 

After a few months, they stopped altogether.

Edd had been an emotional wreck the weeks after, curling up on the couch and searching up Tord's name on google every so often and checking for anything in the news. Matt had taken it harder, become a recluse and refusing to talk about it. Tom took it upon himself to become the stronger one, nudging Edd off the couch every so often when he needed a shower, and bringing Matt food when he didn't leave his room for hours.

After a while, it started working and they slowly began picking up the pieces that Tord had shattered them into. They had losses before, and even though the loss of Tord had been great, it would not affect them forever.

Throughout this, Tom hid that out of all of them—he was hurting the most.

Sure he drank frequently, but it was like something in him had _broke_ with the news of Tord's disappearance and only the burn of vodka down his throat could keep him going. At night when it got too much to bear, he'd climb to the roof and stare at the stars. They'd twinkle at him and spin through his drunken haze, and ask him what he was doing.

If the others could hear his cries late at night, they didn't say anything.

A few years passed in this manner and when it that everything was finally be behind them all, Edd's strangled cry had woken them all up one morning.

Tom had burst into Edd's room, baseball bat in hand fearing an intruder, Matt had followed closely behind with a can of bear mace— but when he saw the tears streaming down the cartoonist's face and the phone in his hand they knew it was something worse than a break in.

Tord was in fact alive, and he was coming to see them.

 

Edd had been a small hurricane of a man after that, rushing here and there making preparations for Tord to visit. Matt had been all smiles and squeals, hurrying to the store and buying the favorite snacks of the Norsk. It was like the years of hurt and anguish they'd gone through was gone, erased with a single text.

Tom didn't get it.

He didn't understand.

He wanted to scream and shake the others to wake them up. This was the man who left us and practically made us think he was dead, he'd argued, why the hell should we let him back into our home? Our hearts?

He'd frozen at the last part, something familiar stirring up inside of him.

He decided to drop it.

It didn't change the fact he wanted to see the bastard as much as the others, as much as he tried to deny the fact. He wondered if the Hanahaki was gone, and he wondered if he was doing okay. Was he still with the roommates they'd gotten so many pictures of long ago? What if his Hanahaki was gone because he'd fallen in love with somebody else?

Or maybe he'd surgically removed it.

The last thought had him curling his hands into fists as a hollow pain bloomed in his chest. He'd checked him palms afterwards when he'd calmed down—he'd been shaking and pressing his fingers so deeply into his palms that ten perfect crescent marks bore into both hands.

Did Tord remember what they used to have? Did he even care?

The feeling that he'd suppressed so many years ago had surged at all of these thoughts, pulsing painfully in his heart. He shook his head and dropped another thought train for the second time.

It just didn't feel right, as much as he wanted it.

 

The next day after that, you couldn't pull Edd's attention away from his phone. Tom knew from experience that he was probably refreshing the texting app, hoping to catch the message before the notification could sound. Part of him worried that the phone would run out of battery before he got the chance to read it, but the green charging block that clung to the phone quickly cleared that thought.

Matt and him talked about possibly making a sign in case he wanted the trio to meet him at the airport, and Tom quickly shot down any involvement with that.

He decided to have a little bit of fun before the Norsk came home, and sold the couches for a harpoon gun he knew he'd never use. Who knows what possessed him to buy it? It's not like they'd use it while fishing, that was just plain overkill.

 

He'd been in his room drinking through his second bottle of Smirnoff of the day, when he'd heard the front door open. He'd frozen in place instantly, near empty bottle paused near his lips as he heard the faint sounds of somebody shuffling in through the door. He'd heard it then— The rich accented voice of Tord, come home once more.

His heart  began thundering in his ribcage, threatening to steal Tom's breath away, and he found himself unable to move.

Laughter. Joking. Matt calling for him.

His hand clenched around the near empty bottle in his right hand.

Nearly tripping over his feet, he vaulted out of bed and opened his door with the force of 4 years, breath caught in his throat as he rounded the corner of the hallway that lead into the kitchen.

Tord was there.

He looked tired, sick, taller and a bit more rugged but God, he was there. It was like time had stopped and Tord was the reason everything was in slow motion. He probably was. Tom didn't even know if that made sense, and found he didn't care.

Before anybody could react, Tom had strode forward and smashed his face with the bottle he'd forgotten was still in his right hand.

 

After that, Tord had looked mildly shocked before fainting.

Tom felt shocked as well—He didn't know what possessed him to do that.

Matt had surged forward to catch Tord before he hit the ground and Edd was pure anger and electricity as he snatched the bottle from Tom, screaming obscenities and shoving Tom into a chair. He couldn't miss the anger and hurt in Matt's eyes either as he gathered Tord in his arms, shaking slightly as he exited the kitchen.

 

"Drink."

Edd slammed a glass of water in front of Tom, and then retreated to the other side of the table pen and paper in hand. Tom had obliged, and drank the water in sips. He'd nursed enough hangovers to know that drinking all of it in one gulp was a mistake. Edd began agitatedly scribbling nonsensical shapes and designs linking to each other. Zen doodling. Shit, he hadn't done that in years.

"For the record, he had that coming." Tom begrudgingly set the cup down, and began fiddling with his hoodie tassels. The only response was the scratching of pencil against paper. "He let us think that something happened to him. He didn't bother to say 'Hey guys I'm okay!' and then he shows up after how long unannounced? Jesus Edd, of course I'm gonna fucking hit the guy."

Edd had sighed at this, and stopped scribbling for a moment rubbing the bridge of his eyes.

"That doesn't mean its okay to nearly give him a concussion, Tom." He feels the hot sensation of shame start burning the tips of his ears.

"Well what else do you want me to do, fucking unroll a red carpet for him? Kiss his hand, plead him to stay? Jesus fucking CHRIST Edd, what do you want me to do?!" Tom hadn't realized he had stood up and started wringing his hands, pacing back and forth until he nearly trips in his agitation.

"It's not rocket science Tom, just be understanding for once! He's had to deal with the fact that whoever he fell in love with lives here! Of course he wouldn't want to come back!" Edd had yelled back, pencil threatening to snap in his hand.

After that they'd argued back and forth, getting more agitated with each passing minute.

"Guys?" Matt's voice had snapped them out of their argument, and they turned to see why he's interrupted them. "Guys, there's--"

Choking back a broken sob, he set a handful of bloody—yet vibrantly _blue—_ Delphiniums onto the table, gore and saliva sticking to the petals. Edd didn't say anything, eyes transfixed on the flower that had so rudely been handed to them. Tord's visit made sense now, he wasn't coming home—

He had unfinished business.

 

Tom had begun shaking.

"He never got rid of the Hanahaki?"

"That's impossible, it's been at least 4 years..."

Matt rushed back to wherever Tord was, leaving the offending flower on the table. Edd began hesitantly scribbling once again, and Tom felt his legs turn into jelly.

 

After a period of unsure silence, they started arguing again but it was half hearted. The rift was back, making itself known in the shapes of the flowers on the table. What the fuck was wrong with Tord—What kind of sick fucking joke was this? Leaving them for how long, only to come back into their lives like he'd never left only to reveal he was slowly killing himself? All for what—The love of somebody who'd never love him back?

Whoever Tord had fallen in love with probably had moved on by now or was unaware of what they were doing to him. Unaware that Tord loved them so deeply and so strongly that he wanted to _die_ for them. Why the hell was he spending his days here with them, wasting away instead of finding the person?

No wonder he looked so bad when he first saw him.

Tom's heart beat painfully.

Why couldn't he just tell the stupid bastard about how he felt? How he'd been feeling all these years he'd been gone, and before that? Why did he have to ruin his chances at telling the Norsk that when they were teenagers, Tom had a stupid crush that had held strong all these years? That Tom _loved_ him?

Because Tord could never return the feelings, feeling he'd kept all these years for some other idiot.

Tom was stupid.

 

When Tord had come into the kitchen, all smiles and nervousness, Tom had snapped for the second time.

Pushing the Norsk down and slamming a foot down onto his chest had made a sick feeling rise into Tom's throat, coating his words in venom. He'd yelled at the Norsk, each sentence punctuated with added pressure. He was hurting Tord, and he wanted to stop but couldn't. It wasn't until Tord had coughed up a chrysanthemum and then stared Tom in the eyes that he released his pressure and staggered back into the table.

No.

No, Tord had more time, right?

He'd collapsed into the kitchen chair, panic bubbling inside of him, threatening to spill over. Edd hadn't paid any attention and rushed to Tord's side, breaking down and holding him close when he had identified the flower. Matt had come in after what felt like hours, and had held the two close. It took immense willpower for him to stand up, anger making him shake.

"Who were they."

He'd heard Edd hiccup and process what he'd just said, while Matt had blinked in shock. Tom didn't know what he wanted to do when he found the sorry bastard that Tord loved, and he found himself seething with unbridled rage at this situation.

"Tom what-"

"I need to know so I can _kick their ass_ in this life and in the next life."

He'd clenched his fists and turned his full attention to stare at them, anger and grief in his gaze. He saw Tord shrink under his watch, never once turning away his tired storm filled eyes. Then his arm had come up to point right at Tom, causing Edd's breath to let out a sound of pure sorrow, and for Matt to suck in a breathe, surprise on his face,

Wait.

_Me?_

And all at once, the world stopped.

Edd and Matt didn't exist in this second, the only thing was Tord's face, Tord's stupid idiotic face as tears began rolling down his cheeks. Tom felt every single stress and coiled muscle relax, and he dropped to the floor in front of Tord, hands cupping each side of his face. The idiot in front of his had fallen in love with him, and Tom had been too caught up with himself to notice. Tom had been an idiot, but Tord was equally as foolish to think Tom didn't love him back.

"You." He managed to choke out,"Are the biggest fucking idiot I've met."

He pushes Edd and Matt aside and pulls Tord towards him, kissing his lips full of perfume and poison—As if to prove to the world that they were fools meant to be together,

 

He hears Matt gently faint in the background.


	7. Back to the Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 months later

After what Edd calls the single most gayest thing he's ever seen in his life, things start calming down.

Or at least—things aren't so tense and horrible anymore.

Tord of course, had spent the next few days in the hospital spitting up chunks of the flower in his lungs. Apparently they even though Hanahaki can be cured, the flower still has to come up somehow. Because of that, he'd been stationed in a ward very far away from everybody else.

Tord's roommates were absolutely falling over themselves when they heard that his Hanahaki had been cured, to the point where they insisted that they had to visit. They also insisted on bringing all sorts of Norwegian snacks for Matt, Tom and Edd to try. Tord had groaned at this, but hadn't protested; As long as they brought some more of his clothes when they came over it was fine. He didn't bother to tell them that they'd be sleeping on the couch.

Being released from the hospital had also seen Edd positively force feeding him home cooked meals and supplying him with his favorite snacks and drinks to make him healthy once more. Matt hadn't bought these for just the hell of it, he'd argued. If you waste them, I'm shoving them down your throat.

Tord wasn't about to waste a perfectly good stash of what was the best junk food spread he'd seen in ages.

And since more was on the way, he'd graciously let the others pick at them as well.

Tom on the other hand, had been nothing but raw emotion after everything had been said and done. He'd yelled himself hoarse chastising Tord for what seemed like hours, and then proceeded to cling to him and cry himself to exhaustion, only to repeat the process a few hours later. Tord was too elated after the realization that Tom liked him back for the yelling—and the fact that he was still alive and breathing—for lectures to have any real effect and Tom grew tired of it after a while.

Matt was all bubbles and excitement for when Pat and Paul finally arrived, preparing the cots in the living room for them. After the couches had arrived the next day after they'd rushed Tord to the hospital, Edd had realized with delight that they were couch beds and hadn't shut up about them. It was endearing and Edd was too psyched for the others to tell him to shut up, even though Tom had been tempted to.

Matt immediately drags Patryk off to the bathroom once they all settle down, wanting to mess with the fluffy expanse that is his hair. He'd asked Paul with the most innocent puppy eyes if he could pluck his "Obscenely hairy eyebrows," but one murderous look was enough of an answer. Matt settles for shaving his stubble and styling his hair. Edd snickers when they come back looking like they'd just been to a beauty parlour. Preened, beautiful and looking very uncomfortable, Paul shoots a murderous glare at Tord who just shrugs as if to say "hey you're the one who wanted to come here in the first place." Patryck didn't seem to mind the makeover, and asks Matt how he managed to get his bangs to sit the way he'd brushed them and how to get his hair to stay in a ponytail. Matt is happy to comply.

When everything had calmed down and luggage had been put away and a table had been pulled into the living room to accommodate the hefty amount of snacks, Tord found himself snuggled against Tom's side, watching a movie on the screen. His breathing is steady and the warmth between them is enough to make his heart swell with unbridled joy. Tom as if sensing this, pulls him closer and plants a kiss on his forehead.

He figured he could get to used this kind of lifestyle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! I'm not exactly sure what I should have elaborated on since I cannot bring myself to write fluff. It's like my fingers are allergic to it. But I hope this was good enough even though it's so short.
> 
> I wasn't expecting the responses I got from this, or the fact that they were constant! It motivated me to keep writing and I can't thank you all enough. 
> 
> Thank you for reading what I hope is the first of a lot of fics!
> 
> ☞¬ ͜ʖ¬☞ Finger guns.


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